


Ships in the Night

by Serpensortia_parapluie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), Zombieland (2009)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 04:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpensortia_parapluie/pseuds/Serpensortia_parapluie
Summary: Rick and Daryl have a brief run-in with the Zombieland contingent.





	Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post the Zombieland movie, and right after the Ricktatorship announcement.  
> Zombies are more 'walkers' than the Zombieland version, not that it comes up. Super short, but it's been sitting in my files for months, so I slapped an ending on it. Also, I've read this like six times by now, so I have no idea if it's good or not anymore and comments would be appreciated.  
> I do not own, nor am I affiliated with the creators of Zombieland or the Walking Dead, and do not approve of sharing my work on sites like Goodread.

They were hunkering down near a low banked fire, cold and miserable, when they heard the low roar of a four-wheeler coming down the road. The big SUV slammed to a halt near the convoy, and the driver's door, spray-painted with a number four, burst open, revealing a big man who clambered out. He gazed around, completely missing their group.

He cast an inspecting eye over their vehicles, and called back into his car, “Hey, Columbus! You reckon there's any gas in these cars?”

Unlike the driver's side door, the passenger's door opened once before closing back on itself, the getting shoved back open, allowing a skinny nerdy guy holding a shotgun to stumble out.

“Uh, probably not? You know, as time goes on, that it'll get harder and harder to find gas, right? ...Maybe we should consider switching to a more gas-efficient car?”

The big man turned to glare at the nerdy guy. “You wanna die, Columbus?”

Columbus gulped. “Nope. We'll just keep using the gas-guzzler. Alright.”

One of the back doors opened and a young woman about Columbus' age hopped out. “Tallahassee! Columbus! What's the hold up?”

A young girl, about Carl's age, popped out of the last door. “Did you see another Hostess truck?”

Tallahassee glared at her before reaching back into the SUV and pulling out a banjo. Idly, he tuned it as he asked, “Wanna ring the dinner bell?”

The girl asked, “Didn't you use a banjo two months ago?”

The woman said faux-seriously, “Yeah, you did. Don't want to repeat yourself, do you?”

Hands stilling on the neck of the instrument, Tallahassee scowled childishly and then shoved the banjo back into the SUV.

Columbus teased, “Looks like you're not going to beat me for 'Zombie Kill of the Week' this time!”

Rick and Daryl, who had been creeping up on the group, glanced at each other.

'Zombie Kill of the Week', really?

Suddenly, Columbus called out, “Hey, Wichita, is there one over there?”

Following the sweep of his finger, he was pointing straight at Rick. Daryl cursed inwardly. Damn city boy can't walk quietly worth a damn.

Three members of the little group of four backed up closer to their SUV and raised the muzzles of their guns.

“Who's there?” called out Tallahassee, the only one of them to stride closer rather than pull back, Columbus cowering behind him, shaking but still covering his back with his rifle.

Rick went right out into the open and this time Daryl swore out loud before following him, bow aimed right at the tall one's face.

“Hello. I'm-” Rick started.

“Ah ah ah!” Tallahassee shouted, waving his gun in a 'no-no' motion. “No real names.”

Daryl wasn't able to see Rick's face from where he was standing, but he was sure that was one hell of an expression.

Columbus piped up. “He doesn't like real names. Helps keep you from getting attached. It's one of the Rules.” They could hear the capitalization, and wanted to exchange incredulous looks again.

The one they already knew was Tallahassee waved his free hand in a 'move it along' gesture then said, “I'm Tallahassee, the jumpy little squirrel behind me is Columbus, the young lady over there is Wichita, and the even younger little lady is Little Rock.”

“Maybe you can stop pointing your weapons at us now?” Little Rock asked pointedly.

Daryl could almost hear Rick's thoughts churning before he slowly said, “In that case, my name is King.” He lowered his gun, but he kept it unholstered.

Likewise, Daryl lowered his bow, but only enough to not be an obvious threat.

“Never heard of it.” Wichita said.

“It’s a county, not a city.”

“Oooh.” She said slowly, nodding and also clearly not caring.

Tallahassee nodded his head back. “Whatever. Sounds good to me.” He swung up the end of his rifle to point at Daryl, who was still pointing his bow at him. “How'd about you, Crossbow?”

“Atlanta.”

“Alright, alright.” Tallahassee says, nodding, at the same time as Columbus says, “Nice to meet you.”

Rick asked, “What are you doing around here? All your names are more west than here.”

All four of them through glances between them like a pinball, before collectively shrugging. “Just passing through.” Wichita offers. “We already went to the west coast, so we figured we’d come see the east coast.”

“So far, it’s really boring.” Little Rock says.

“Can’t imagine there’s much to do now, besides survive.” Rick said, tone dry.

Tallahassee scoffed. “Surviving is alright, but that’s not really living, now is it?”

“You do what you got to to get by.” Daryl said.

“Oh! That’s a good idea!” Columbus exclaimed. “I’m writing that down.”

Sure enough, he pulled out a little notebook and a pencil and scribbled something down in it.

Wichita just looked at him like he’d lost his mind, before smiling indulgently. “Anyway, do you guys have any supplies you might be willing to share?”

“Sorry.” Rick said plainly. “We just lost the last place we holed up, and most of our supplies. We don’t have any surplus.”

The men looked over at Wichita, who said, “I think he’s being honest. Oh well.”

Shortly after, all four of them had climbed back into the SUV and slammed the doors closed. With a tip of Tallahassee’s hat, a short jerky wave from Columbus, a tight smile and short wave from Wichita, they were gone. Little Rock didn’t even look back.

They never saw them again, so maybe they’d made it to the coast after all.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence._  
>  \--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


End file.
